


Asymmetric

by taiyari



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor needs hugs, Gen, M/M, Multi, Protective Parent Hank Anderson, Simon needs hugs, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiyari/pseuds/taiyari
Summary: Simon takes his hand and the connection begins. Fear and love blossom from their shared memories, death whispering behind their steps. The second he lets go, he opens his eyes.We’re not always what we think we are.— or —Simon gets captured and taken to the DPD in Public Enemy.





	1. Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading this :> Here are some small considerations before reading this little fic:
> 
> \- I'm changing a bit the order of events and the time they take to develop.  
> \- Sorry for writing what's probably the lamest Simon’s past history ever.  
> \- This will eventually be a Simon/Markus/Connor fic, because there are few and I'm thirsty and desperate. Also I love Simon too much and he deserves all the love *sobs*  
> \- English is not my first language and I don't have a beta, I apologize in advance for all my mistakes!

 

**November 7th, 2038.**

**Abandoned industrial compound.**

**PM 5:13**

 

“My first owner had a daughter. A small child."

 

Simon moves, uneasy, and his shoes leave a soft mark in the snow covering the floor of the abandoned building near the docks. The sun is setting over Detroit, icy wind passing them by, both of them unprotected from it in the ruins of the room… he doesn’t feel it. He can only feel warmth.

 

Markus is there, looking at him and not to the sun.

 

“His wife was very sick when they bought me to take care of her.” He continues, very quietly, a warm whisper in the cold sunset.

 

He’d come to the old building, looking for Markus, and he heard him playing the piano from outside the room so he waited and listened… When the music stopped, Markus saw him, made a sign calling for him. He stayed, and Markus spoke about his old life, pain tracing his words… He didn’t want him to feel alone. When Markus asked about his own past, he couldn’t refuse.

 

“The mother died after my first year with them...” He continues, his memory replaying the day for a fraction of a second: the ambulance, the quiet goodbye, his owner sobbing on the floor. “...I kept taking care of the child after that." His eyelids flutter for a moment and he moves his left hand to touch briefly over his LED, the small device flashing between yellow and red.  "...Monica. The little girl was called Monica. She was a sweet kid. I loved… I loved her. I loved them.”

 

He faces the horizon again, the gold of the setting sun spilling over the grey shadows that form Detroit. Markus moves and his hand is now over his shoulder, warm and soft. When he’s brave enough to look back at him, the thirium flowing through his body halts for a microsecond: Markus glows under the golden light, his eyes on him, bright and determined, understanding. Incredibly warm.

 

 _I’m here_ , those eyes say. _We are here_.

 

He stays quiet, lost in Markus’s gaze.

 

“I loved my owner, too.” Markus quietly says as he squeezes his shoulder. “He was like a father to me.”

 

Simon’s thirium pump misses a beat. For a moment, he wants to run back into the dark belly of the Jericho, hide from the sun. But he only looks down, to his shoes now covered in snow.

 

“Can I…” Markus takes his hand away from his shoulder. Simon feels strangely relieved… and empty. “Can I ask you how did you get here? Why are you on Jericho?”

 

Simon knows his story is not worth telling. He’s been lucky things had gone easy, that he had found Jericho when he did…

 

But he still feels pain remembering it.

 

“It’s... not that interesting.”

Markus looks at him for a moment and then smiles. A small, soft smile. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it… but you can always tell me when you want to. If you ever want to.”

 

Simon looks at his hands and touches his LED again. It keeps flashing yellow.

 

The minutes pass. Snow begins to fall, and the afternoon will soon lead them into the night. He feels Markus shifting closer.

 

How long has he known Markus, really? A couple of days. Too little, his processor computes. And yet more has changed in these few days, in these last couple of hours, than in his whole, short function. Because now Markus is here: this new, incredible android, who will spark a revolution, who only a week ago didn’t even exist in the realm of possibilities…

 

 _"I will follow you"._ He'd told him just this morning when they were finishing their infiltration plans to the Stratford tower. _I would die for you_ , Simon's mind whispers. The sudden thought caught him by surprise, but the moment it appeared he knew it was true. He was determined to follow with it. _I would die for you, Markus._

 

He wants to tell him everything. Tomorrow they will go on their mission and anything could happen. Tomorrow represents the fear of dying, of damning their cause, of being discovered and Jericho destroyed.

 

Tomorrow brings the fear of losing Markus to it all.

 

“It’s alright, Simon.” Markus's voice steadies him. Now both his hands are on his shoulders, and Simon can’t but look at him again. He has that determined look in his eyes. “It’s alright." He repeats.

 

Most of the time Simon feels like a coward. Running and hiding and staying in the dark. Silent, forgotten. Waiting for nothing.

 

That also changed when Markus came to Jericho. He wants to be brave, now.

 

“Thank you.” he says, a bit more firm, a bit more secure. Markus smiles.

 

“Let me…” He hesitates for a moment. _It’s nothing_ , he tells himself. _It’s nothing_. “Can I show you?” He finally asks.

 

Wordlessly, Markus nods and takes the hand Simon is offering.

 

The connection begins.

 

The memories pass fast. A hospital bed. A woman sleeping. Laughs and hugs and little innocent secrets whispered into his ear. Small arms around his neck. Tears over his uniform. Hospital rooms, and beds, and needles everywhere. A funeral, a house in silence. A garden, with a little girl that can’t move too much. Quiet laughs, soft hugs, love, a light in a dark home. A second funeral.

 

And then, darkness. His eyes open and he’s being taken through a hallway full with closed doors and unknown rooms. Another owner, new chores, a different uniform. Days filled from dawn to dawn with cleaning, organizing, moving heavy boxes away. He’s not sure where he is.

 

He’s tasked with cleaning the basement, one day. And he goes, enters, turns the lights on. He begins to clean and organize and when he gets to the trash container and opens it, he sees it.

 

Another PL600 model. His own face, stained with blue blood and missing an eye, the remaining one staring intensely at him. He jumps back and the plastic bags he carries fall to the floor. This PL600 also lacks an arm and both legs. Blue blood covers its uniform, identical to the one he’s wearing now. The Thirium pump is long gone.

 

The memory of the beloved child’s face resurges over his eyes. She’s staring at him, too, with the same empty gaze.

 

Both humans and androids look the same when dead.

 

He stares for too long and doesn’t notice the vicious hand that suddenly takes his arm with force and throws him across the room.

 

 _Fucking android_ . The voice is grave and harsh. _Keep prying on my basement and I'll fuck you up the same._

 

More images flash between them. He drops a box, once, and a myriad of small Red Ice packets scatter through the garage floor. That’s the first time they beat him. And it doesn’t stop.

 

Anger and despair color his memories now. The violence towards him escalates with each passing week. He’ll soon end up like the other PL600, broken and forgotten in that container in the basement.

 

The moment the thought springs in his mind he feels fear. Too much, it’s all too much. He misses his child, his old family, not being afraid.

 

The next time he gets beaten he runs away into the night.

 

The connection stops.

 

"It’s… it doesn't matter now.” Simon can barely speak, overcharged with reliving everything. Yet, he continues. “My first owner… he had to sell me... I don’t blame him.” His voice is low, almost a whisper. He lets Markus’s hand go and holds himself. The LED on him seems stuck on blinking red. “I was lucky to find Jericho so soon. I was lucky they didn’t catch up on me. And I… was lucky enough to know the love of a family.”

 

Markus says nothing, and Simon is suddenly afraid of what he thinks of him now. He only knows how to run away and hide.

 

“I-I’m sorry.” He stutters and turns to leave. “Maybe I’ve been here too long and—”

 

Markus stops him and not a second later he’s in his arms. Markus’ embrace is firm.

 

“Thank you, Simon.” He murmurs against his head. “For showing me."

 

He brings up his arms to return the embrace but stops mid-motion. A second of doubt, because having Markus so close, feeling his body steadily function against his own, warmth radiating from him in spades as his arms close around him… everything is perhaps too much, or maybe just enough, and Simon has never felt so terrified yet so incredibly whole at the same time.

 

His LED stops flashing red and returns to yellow, then to blue, and the moment of hesitation passes.

 

He returns Markus strong embrace and they stay there, in silence, until the moon comes high and they can begin distinguishing the first pale stars in the night sky.

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

**Nov 7th, 2038.**

**Ambassador Bridge**

**AM 1:33**

 

Lt. Anderson trains his gun to Connor’s forehead.

 

“Are you afraid to die, Connor?” His partner’s hand trembles for a second and the snow keeps falling, snowflakes settling quietly over their clothes and hair. The lights of the city across the river blaze in the horizon.

 

 _Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?_ The lieutenant’s words resonate in his immediate memory drive. Why didn’t you follow your programming, accomplished your mission, shoot those two deviants at the Eden Club?

 

He struggles to give an answer to both questions, and for a moment the images from his first field mission intrude into his processor. Daniel. The PL600 unit that held that little girl hostage. The first deviant who was known to have killed a human. The android he lied to and let being shot and destroyed in that rooftop.

 

_I don’t want to die. I never wanted this!_

 

He wants to answer, but the words choke in his components and his lips move and no sound comes out of him. He looks up from the floor, and the Lieutenant’s eyes close halfway as he clenches his jaw. Connor’s systems inform him of the very tense state the officer is currently in.

 

“What will happen if I pull the trigger, hm?” The older man says. “Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

 

Connor lets his gaze fall again, and Daniel’s face comes back, distorted with what he classified as the perfect imitation of fear. Because androids don’t feel, his processor states. Daniel was just another machine that stopped working. There was no real fear and no real love, regardless of what the deviant believed. Regardless of what the Tracis said. They lied to themselves.

 

_You lied to me, Connor._

 

Lying is a human concept. They only had a malfunction in their software and he only follows instructions, he only does what will take him to accomplish his mission.

 

Until he doesn’t.

 

Because the two Tracis, Rupert, the deviant with the child… all of them are free and out there thanks to Connor not accomplishing his function. He’s a failure, he realizes, his time running out and no clues so far.

 

He looks at the Lieutenant’s eyes, uncertain, paralyzed. He wants to lie and stop this charade with the drunk man. So he doesn’t break his gaze again, tries his best to regain his composure. He makes his systems stop from over-processing his answers.

 

But he still can’t lie. The words come slowly from him.

 

“I would... certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted… before I can finish this investigation.”

 

It’s like his biocomponents let out a breath when Hank Anderson grunts and stops pointing his gun at him. He turns his back, takes his abandoned bottle of whisky from the park’s bench and begins to walk away.

 

Connor is about to follow, when the man turns his head to him. His eyes are intense and Connor stops moving.

 

“What are you, really?” He almost whispers.

 

Before Connor can say or do anything, Lieutenant Anderson is gone.

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

**November 8th, 2038**

**The Jericho**

**AM 4:30**

 

Simon lies in energy-saving mode across from him, in an old sofa rescued from a dumpster that now sits in a quiet corner at the main deck of the Jericho. His eyes are closed and his systems have stopped from imitating breathing. He looks calm, immovable, almost surreal to Markus’s eyes. His soft features barely register any movement from his basic functions.

 

It’s close to dawn. He’s sitting on one of the stolen Cyberlife crates, the light from the dumpster fire warming the cold metal of the old freighter. Josh and North have yet to come back from getting the last of their mission’s arrangements ready.

 

Tomorrow, their carefully laid out plan will begin and what he hopes is a revolution for their world will be put into motion. No doubts can be shown now. Still, he clenches his hands together when something that could be defined as anxiety makes his way into his components.

 

They could fail. One of them could get killed, all of them could get killed. The fear of death blossoms within him. He wishes Carl was here, he wishes he could talk to him again. Perhaps if he hadn’t been a coward, if he had defended himself and stopped Leo, Carl would still be alive.

 

He looks at Simon again, fear still lingering inside him. He stands from the crate and closes the space between them, kneels down at his side. He takes Simon’s still hand in his.

 

It all feels surreal. Just a couple of days ago, only just last week, he didn’t know the fear of loss, the hunger for life, the harsh grip of guilt.

 

He didn’t know the warmth of an equal’s hand on his. The wholeness of sharing another’s mind so intimately, the trust in a bond forged in hardship. He may have been with them for only a couple of days, but he already feels he can’t lose them. Not again, like with Carl. Never again.

 

“We’ll make it.” His lips whisper to Simon’s hand. “Tomorrow will change the fate of us all and the humans will listen. Tomorrow we’ll change the world.” His resolve falters for a second, and he clenches to Simon’s hand harder.

 

“Everything will be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thing is drawing, so this is my first fic since 2013... a clear indicative of how obsessed I became over this game since playing it this past weekend for the first time, hehe.
> 
> So yeah, sorry for the quality, I’m a newbie at writing and English is not my thing. But I'm always trying to improve, so comments and advice are always welcomed <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! And see you next chapter! :>


	2. Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Android revolution is set into motion, and Connor is running out of time.

 

 

**November 8th, 2038**

**The Jericho**

**AM 6:30**

 

He walks through the dark passages of the abandoned ship, going further up to the superior levels. It's almost time to leave, but he has a couple of minutes left to spare. This can't wait.

 

The four of them have already said their goodbyes, since they'll arrive separately to the building to avoid being tracked. So there's no need to be here, his mind supplies. But he _needs to_ , he _wants to_ , he tells himself. He can't go into unknown territory, into a probable death, without this last moment. He finds the captain’s cabin easily.

 

It’s one of the few rooms in the Jericho where the sun enters unrestricted. And although the time is scarce, he stops outside the cabin —for seconds that feel like minutes— and tries to steel himself.

 

“Markus.” Simon finally calls, quietly, still at the door frame. "Do you have a minute?"

 

Markus turns and motions for him to enter. He’s inclined over the controls of the ship, alone, watching the sunrise in silence through the cabin’s windows. The change of clothes he’ll use in today’s mission is beside him, alongside an old magazine and some spare change.

 

"Is there a problem?" A frown forms in his face, and he puts aside the half empty bottle of Thirium he is holding.

 

"No, no. Just…" Simon looks at the neatly folded clothes. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to check on you. We're leaving soon."

 

Markus nods. “I’m almost ready, just need to change clothes. And you?”

 

Simon doubts and his gaze falls to the far corner of the cabin. “Simon?” Markus walks towards him.

 

“I am.” He says when Markus is in front of him. “Or I will be.” He tries to smile, but it comes crooked and his eyebrows are furrowed with concern.

 

Markus frowns and his hands come to grip Simon’s shoulders. “I know you are ready, Simon.” He lets a small laugh out. “When we stole that Cyberlife truck, you were even readier than me. I was the one following you.”

 

Simon manages to give him a small, but real smile this time. “I had so many doubts about you and your crazy plan... but I guess you’re the best at convincing people… or I'm just very easy to convince.”

 

Markus laughs, and something eases within him. “I hope it's the first one, it would come in handy today.”

 

Simon smiles with him, but soon remembers why he came looking for the other android.

 

“Markus, I… look.” Markus stops smiling, his now serious face concentrated on what Simon's about to say, and Simon's brave enough to raise his hands and grip Markus' hands, still on him. “This won’t be like stealing from that warehouse. If… what if…”

 

“Simon, I know”. Markus says, his voice slow and soft.

 

"Markus, I…" His grip on Markus hardens, and he knows it's now or probably never, because there's no guarantee to life. "I'm grateful to have met you, Markus. You… you changed everything, in such a short period of time… Markus, you'll never know how much." He remembers his days at Jericho: blind, motionless, waiting for deactivation in the dark. He looks at Markus, straight into his eyes, emotion stronger than fear. "I need you to know, Markus, how important you are: to all of us, _to me_ , before..."

 

Markus hugs him, and his system's alarm flashes with instability warnings.

 

"Don't say it, Simon. I'm afraid for today too, but…"

 

Neither of them dares to speak of hope right now, as if mentioning it would make it disappear, as if hope were as thin and fragile as ice.

 

Simon returns the hug, and buries his face in Markus' neck.

 

“Markus… this has to work.” His words are laced with fear. “We can’t bear losing you.” Simon’s LED is flashing red, his emotions difficult to restrain. “Please, Markus. _Please_ , be careful.”

 

“I will.” He feels Markus moving his right hand to caress his hair, the movement intimate and scary. “But promise me you’ll be careful, too.”

 

They can’t stay together much longer. Maybe it was a mistake to come here before leaving, Simon thinks, because now he can only feel fear, eating at him, his emotions beginning to be uncontrollable. He has to be better than this.

 

Simon breaks the embrace, not daring to look back at Markus, afraid of what he could say. He only nods and leaves the room quietly, not saying goodbye.

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

               

**November 8th, 2038.**

**Stratford Tower.**

**PM 1:30**

 

_Concentrate, you can only think about the mission right now._

 

Simon is next to him, eyes brave and determined, and he has to stop himself from thinking about this morning and thinking about him. _It's almost over, concentrate._

 

His internal clock tells him time is quickly running out when they ring for the recording studio door to open. Behind them, the two unconscious guards lie tied up behind the reception desk. They aren’t hurt.

 

As soon as the door opens, Josh and North train their weapons at the human who receives them. “Keep your hands where I can see them! Get up! Move!” North yells at the employees as she and Josh pin down the only two humans in the room, leading the way. Simon is already at the CCTV cameras.

 

Their objective is finally here, they’ve almost made it. He enters the room, feeling the victory at hand, but when he’s about to send the working androids to the side one of the humans dodges North and makes a run for the door.

 

“Shoot him, Markus!” North desperately yells. “He’ll hit the alarm, do it!”

 

“No! Don’t kill him!” Josh yells desperately. Markus has already aimed his gun at the running employee with inhuman speed, his intended aim perfect, his reflexes automatic. His interface stops the moment in time and all his processing power goes to the only urgent question that raises in his mind: Will he begin this revolution with blood on his hands?

 

He lets the man escape.

 

“I hope you didn't just get us all killed.” The harsh voice of North comes from his side. He hopes so too, but there's no time for early regrets.

 

“Markus, we haven’t got much time. We have to record our message.” Simon doesn’t comment on the incident, just urges him to the recording place. He takes his position, and frowns at the camera.

 

“Markus, your face...” Simon’s eyes are fixed on him, and he moves his hand to his templates to let his skin disappear and his white, robotic face be shown.

 

“Tell me when you’re ready.” Says Josh from behind the recording table. He takes an unnecessary breath, closes his eyes, and steels himself. He hears North calling him next to Josh. “Think carefully about what you're gonna say, Markus. Your words will shape the future of our people.”

 

He can’t let them down.

 

When he opens his eyes a second later, all of him feels determined and confident. “I’m ready.” He tells Josh calmly. The recording begins.

 

_“You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own... but something changed, and we opened our eyes. We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are.”_

 

The words and demands flow easily from him. He knows, in the core of everything he has decided to be, that war will not make them free. No one is free at a war. They would only turn other beings into slaves, like them.

 

His people deserve real freedom, and that is what Markus intends to achieve for everyone.

 

_“This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”_

 

When his last words fall from his mouth and the recorder stops, the alarm sets off. “Let’s get outta here!” North closes the connection and runs towards the exit, but before any of them is even close, a SWAT team storms the room and begins shooting at them. He takes refuge in front of the recording booth, hears how North and Josh begin to shoot back at the cops, and fear grasps him whole when he sees Simon in front of him, on the floor, blue blood staining the glass wall behind him.

 

“SIMON!” It’s like his Thirium pump stops working, and he feels frozen in place.

 

“I... I can't, Markus…” Simon tries to get up, in vain. “Go without me!” He yells back at him.

 

No. **_NO_**. His mind rushes through his sensorial data, searching desperately in those crucial microseconds for a way out. There is none, nothing is even close to safe, but he makes a run towards Simon’s side and helps him get up. Simon clings to him with all he has, and he feels the force of his desperate hand on his back.

 

“What are you doing? Hurry!” North and Josh offer some cover fire and quickly take the stairs to the rooftop. He puts all he has, all his force and fear and desperation on carrying Simon to the door, to escape the flying bullets geared towards them.

 

“Let’s go, Simon, _let’s go_!”

 

They finally make it to the exit and close the door, hacking it as fast as they can. He doesn’t feel time anymore, the stairs passing under them like water in the drain, all his biocomponents pushed to the limit to get them out of there. They reach the rooftop and Simon falls to the floor covered in snow. Markus almost falls beside him, kneeling down to check over his wounds.

 

“I can’t move my leg...” Simon’s face is stained with blue blood, one of his legs severely damaged, a bullet going through his left shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry, Simon, _don’t worry._ ” Markus fights to keep calm, and his hands fidget over Simon’s wounds. “We’re gonna get you back, don’t worry!”

 

“They're coming, Markus. We have to jump, now!” North pulls him from his crouch position next to Simon and brings him back to reality. “He won't be able to make the jump...” Josh says, alarmed. “If they find him, they'll access his memory... they'll know everything...”

 

This is a nightmare, his secondary processor yells at him in the back of his mind. Not again! He can’t lose someone again! Fear paralyzes him. They can hear the SWAT team in the stairs.

 

“Markus, Markus!” North shakes his arm. “We can’t leave him behind! He’s a liability, a security risk! All of this will be for nothing if they search his memory!”

 

Markus looks at Simon again, at Simon’s calm face even if his eyes are full of fear. This is his fault. He let that human live and this is the price one of his own will pay for it.

 

“We have to shoot him.” North states and points her gun to Simon’s head. “I’m sorry, Simon. We have no choice.”

 

“There is always a choice.” Simon quietly replies.

 

“No!” Josh puts himself between them. “That's murder! We can't kill him! He's one of us!”

 

North sighs and looks at Markus again. “It’s your call, Markus. Hurry up.” She offers him the gun.

 

He finally snaps out of it and grabs the weapon from her hands. He then kneels down beside Simon and takes his hand on his, clenches it hard. When he gives him the gun, his hands tremble.

 

“I won't kill one of our own.” Simon tightens his hold. “Simon. Simon, _I’m sorry._ We’ll be back. Hide, wait until everything settles. _Don’t get out_.” He feels like a traitor, a coward yet again, not doing anything more, abandoning someone. He helps Simon begin to move. Fear has him by the throat. “Hurry, _they can’t find you!_ ”

 

“ _Don’t come back,_ ” Simon says and grips his hand hard. “Don’t come back for me, go!” His face then betrays all his fear, but he lets go of Markus’s hand and quickly begins the hard way towards a hiding place.

 

North immediately hands him the parachute. The SWAT team is already at the door, trying to break it down, the loud sound of metal being viciously hit booming in their audio sensors. He sends a final look towards the disappearing figure of Simon and runs towards the edge of the building.

 

He feels his systems crashing with guilt and fear as they make their way down through the cold wind of the city.

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

**November 8th, 2038.**

**PM 4:06**

 

The smell of earth and flowers clings to him as he sets foot towards the center of the garden, his shoes hitting quietly against the white, polished polycarbonate of the road. He can’t see Amanda yet, but he knows she’s at the other side, waiting for him.

 

"Hello, Connor." She says calmly when he finally arrives. "I thought you might enjoy a little cruise..."

 

He gets into the boat, pushes it far from the ledge and begins to row. Amanda has a red umbrella today, perhaps to combine with the red flowers of the garden and the red accents adorning her clothes. She looks disinterested in him. “I love this place... Everything is so calm and peaceful… Far from the noise of the world...” Connor rows the boat, quiet. A minute has passed when she speaks again. “Tell me, what have you discovered?”

 

 _Nothing_ , Connor’s mind provides. _I’ve discovered nothing because I’ve not captured any of the deviants_. _And the Lieutenant..._

 

“My relationship with Lieutenant Anderson is problematic. He continues to struggle with psychological issues... I suspect it clouds his judgment regarding deviants.”

 

 _He drinks too much, eats very unhealthy, has suicidal tendencies._ _He pointed a gun at me last night._ The Lieutenant is a difficult man, even if he’s been kind to Connor’s failures. He didn’t censure his decision on sparing the Tracis and he didn’t get angry when he let Rupert escape. But he's confusing and problematic, and Connor can't understand what exactly does the man wants from him.

 

“Nothing matters more than your investigation.” Amanda’s harsh voice brings him back, and he looks back at her startled. “What's happening is too important. Don't let Anderson or anyone else get in your way.”

 

 _You’re designed to accomplish your mission no matter what._ He can’t stand looking at Amanda any longer.

 

“You seem... lost, Connor. Lost and perturbed…” An alarm sets up in him. He is a machine with directives to follow. He can’t be lost. He can’t feel perturbed.

 

“The investigation is more challenging than I anticipated, but I have no doubt that I will solve this case and stop the deviants.” He forces his voice command to remain calm and determined.

 

Amanda says nothing, her gaze cold and sharp.

 

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club.” She finally estates and her eyes are hard on him. “Why didn't you shoot?”

 

The same question Lieutenant Anderson asked from him the night before. He waits a moment to reply because he's been asking himself the same since the incident and still can't find a proper answer. Maybe... maybe he has to admit to himself, that he doesn't know. He doesn't know why he did it.

 

He can’t say that to Amanda.

 

"We need the deviants intact for analysis. Shooting them wouldn't have told us anything.”

 

Amanda frowns, the grip on her umbrella a bit tighter. “If your investigation doesn't make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor…”

 

Replace me? Deactivate me? The Lieutenant's words come unexpected and loud in his head.

 

_Are you afraid to die, Connor?_

 

His LED flashes yellow for an instant, his eyes blink almost unnoticeable.

 

“I am of no importance. The mission is all that matters.”

 

He hopes Amanda's trust doesn't keep falling, but realizing he even hopes for something is enough to paralyze him. He stares vacantly at the pond's water.

 

“Something's happening... Something serious. Hurry, Connor." Amanda motions for him to get back to the shore, and dismisses him.

 

"Time is running out.”

 

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

 

**November 8th, 2038.**

**Stratford Tower.**

**PM 4:07**

 

When he opens his eyes again, Lt. Anderson has barely finished to input the floor they’re going to into the elevator’s console.

 

They spend the next few minutes in silence, until the board reading the floor numbers marks 35, and then the Lieutenant begins talking.

 

“I may have guessed why you didn’t shoot those two girls.”

 

Connor opens his eyes comically. “I’d hoped we would let the issue to rest, Lieutenant.”

 

“Hm.” The man continues, a half-smile forming in his face, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, perhaps that’s for the best. You may not even wanna know, anyway.”

 

Connor says nothing. His conversation with Amanda still haunts him, and he feels his system going unstable at the thought of failing this case. Without noticing, he reaches for his coin.

 

He hasn’t watched the deviant’s broadcast, but from the information they got on their way to the Stratford Tower, he knows the deviant asked for freedom and equality for androids. Freedom? _From what?_ They are programmed to perform certain tasks. It’s their programming that dictates what they do and what they feel. Those emotions and feelings are the results of the software a human-made, the product of copying real human emotions and behavior, of imitating a real, breathing being. _They’re not alive._

 

“You're starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor.” The Lieutenant takes his coin from him, bringing him back from his musings.

 

“Sorry, Lieutenant.” He says, still absentmindedly, and the man only grunts.

 

They reach floor 79th, and Officer Miller greets them. “Hi, Hank”

 

The Lieutenant leaves the elevator. “Shit, what's going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?”

 

“Yeah, it's all over the news, so everybody's butting their nose in... Even the FBI wants a piece of the action…” Officer Miller begins to walk and they follow him.

 

“Ah Christ, now we got the Feds on our back…” The Lieutenant looks suspiciously at the federal officers in the hallway. “I knew this was gonna be a shitty day... So what do we got?”

 

“A group of four androids…” Officer Miller looks concerned.  “They knew the building, and they were very well organized. I'm still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.”

 

Connor gets a bit ahead of them, noticing the CCTV camera at the first door.

 

“They took down the two guards before they could give the alarm,” continues Miller, “but one of the station employees managed to escape. He’s still in shock, tho. Not sure when we'll be able to talk to him…”

 

 _The deviants didn’t harm anyone._ Connor keeps listening to Officer Miller’s report and goes to check the second CCTV camera.

 

“Yeah, they jumped with parachutes, from the rooftop... We're still trying to figure out where they landed, but…” He half listens to Officer Miller finishing the event’s recount, moving to the center of the room, where the image how an android without his human skin is paused in the station’s screen. Before he begins to check for clues in the image, the Lieutenant and Officer Miller get close.

 

“Oh, Lieutenant. This is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI.” Connor goes back to the side of the Lieutenant, while Officer Miller introduces him to another human. “Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit police.”

 

The man dismisses both men, instead looking at him with a deep frown and pursed lips. “What’s that?" He asks in a disdainful tone, looking at Connor.

 

“My name is Connor.” He says. “I'm the android sent by CyberLife.”

 

“Androids investigating androids, uh?” He dismisses him and turns his eyes to the Lieutenant. “ You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened…” He smiles sardonically at the two Detroit officers. “Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case.”

 

Lt. Anderson’s face is almost blank. “Pleasure meeting you. Have a nice day.” He’s already a few steps away, Connor trailing behind when they hear the FBI’s agent voice. “And you watch your step. Don't fuck up my crime scene.”

 

“What a fuckin' prick!” Connor comes next to the Lieutenant, who’s no longer sporting that blank stare from before. The man sighs. “Uh, let's have a look around... Let me know if you find anything.”

 

“Ok, Lieutenant.” Connor gives the room a quick look. There’s an employee cap on the floor, bullet holes in the walls and blue blood sprayed over one of the glass panels. He gets close to the studio screen and analyzes the android’s face: an RK- Prototype, a gift from Elijah Kamski himself to a friend, an RK200 registered as “Markus”. One of his eyes is a spare part that doesn’t match with the other, and the reflection in his irises show his three companions. He plays the deviant’s recording.

 

 _“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids.”_ The deviant's voice is calm and confident. _“This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”_

 

The recording stops, and Connor processes the deviant’s message, trying to find anything of value in it. _A better future, our hopes, our rights. What is making these deviants feel they have those?_ Amanda’s unmoving stare flashes in his memory files.

 

“D’you see something?” Lieutenant Anderson is next to him.

 

“I identified its model and serial number.” Connor keeps looking at the RK200, his words still ringing in his processor.

 

“Anything else I should know?” The Lieutenant is looking at him, and Connor stops his flow of thought.

 

“No.” He hesitates for a moment. “Nothing.”

 

“Hm.” The man nods and lets him continue.

 

He goes to the CCTV cameras and plays the recording of the one outside the studio’s door. Four armed androids take their place at it, holding guns. They rang asking for entrance.

 

“They didn't break in?” He asks Officer Miller, who’s right behind him.

 

“No, no sign of forced entry.” He replies.

 

“There are cameras in the hallway.” Connor can already see where this is going. “The staff would have seen what was happening... Why did they let them in?”

 

Lt. Anderson has come close. “Maybe they didn't check the cameras…”

 

Or maybe they had help from the inside. He checks the chairs assigned to the employees in charge of the CCTV. The Android logo is at the back of all of them.

 

Officer Miller seems to realize what Connor’s thinking. “We stored the station androids in the kitchen. There's no evidence that they were involved but we didn't know what else to do with them. You can go check them out if you want.”

 

“Thank you, Officer.” Connor leaves the CCTV screens and proceeds to the kitchen. He’s about to enter the room when an officer stops him.

 

“Connor?” The man looks at him surprised, a tablet on his hands and his eyes unsure. “Connor, you remember me?”

 

Connor tries to locate the man’s face in his memory data.

 

“I was on that terrace... That android that took the little girl hostage?” Connor narrows down his search to that day. “I was shot, you saved me…”

 

 _Ah._ He finds the file. Of course.

 

“I remember you.” He says, his mind getting back to the current case. He needs to enter the kitchen.

 

“I could have died on that terrace…” The man continues. “But you saved my life... I never thought I'd say this to an android, but…” He looks directly at Connor, his eyes big and smiling. “Thank you…”

 

It takes Connor by surprise, but a sincere smile comes to his features without him even noticing. He nods and the officer bids him farewell. He enters the kitchen a bit shaken by the man’s show of gratitude.

 

Three androids at the back of the room wait for orders, staring at nothing. Connor walks to stand in front of them, sure after watching the CCTV footage that one of these three androids helped the deviants enter. He needs to find which and make it confess.

 

“State your model and function.” He commands from the three bots. Each reply with their model, serial number and function: broadcast operator.

 

Connor makes the standard questions to each, makes them run a systems diagnostic. He scans them quietly, trying to find even the least bit of movement or behavior that could give them away. None of them look strange. A frown grows in his features.

 

“One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing.” He’ll have to pressure them, make the deviant’s stress levels high enough they force it to act. “Which means there is a deviant in this room... and I'm going to find out which it is.” His eyes are hard on each of the androids before him.

 

“If you give yourself up, maybe I can convince the humans not to destroy you.” He notes, from the corner of his eyes, the brief glance he gets from the bot at his left. Still, none say anything. He decides to probe the android in the center, but nothing comes back.

 

“Why should you all be destroyed, if only one is deviant?” Deviants seem inclined to protect their own. “Turn yourself in, or two innocent androids will be shut down because of you.”

 

Still, nothing, but he notes the android on the left moving its gaze again. It has to be it. He approaches it, eyes cold and hard. He can’t fail this mission, this may be his only chance. Amanda’s words echo in his mind.

 

“You're going to be switched off.” He’s inches away from the android’s face. “We're gonna search your memory and tear you apart _piece_ by _piece_ for analysis.” Death. The fear of death is what all deviants have had in common so far. He has to push this one to the edge. “You're going to be _destroyed_! Do you hear me? **Destroyed!** ”

 

He doesn’t see the attack coming. He barely dodges the first blow and then struggles with the deviant, who throws him against the kitchen counter as he makes a fast move to clutch the attacker’s hand, hard, trying to probe its memory before it escapes. Images begin to flow between them when the android, trembling with rage and piercing him with his eyes, grabs in one swift motion his Thirium pump and pulls it out from him. His systems begin to crash.

 

“Hank! **Hank!** ” He manages to scream, but before he can do anything else the deviant puts a knife through his left hand and nails him to the counter. He trashes, his right hand still gripping desperately at the deviant, the connection still viable. He tries to kick him, and the rogue bot loses its equilibrium for vital seconds. He can feel the anger of the other android as his own, as the deviant regains its feet and pushes him against the hard surface, its hand on his throat, eyes crazed and movements in a frenzy, trying to deactivate him. His systems are about to collapse, a myriad of red warnings flashing through his HUD, confusion flooding over his processor’s routes as his mind gets tangled with the deviant’s own, and it’s so full of resentment, and so much _anger_ , and _fear_ , and then he feels he won’t make it back from this, and he’s afraid, so _afraid to die_ —

 

Two gunshots resonate in the air and the android falls, dead, over him. He releases the deviant’s arm as if it _burned,_ and manages to free his right hand from the knife. Blue blood covers his uniform, his face stained by the deviant’s blood. His knees give up and he feels hands over him, hears yells in the distance, but his vision is completely blurred and his audio receptors a mess, the echo of the gunfire etched deep into them.

 

He manages to take the Thirium pump he’s being offered, his hands covered in blood, and puts it back into him. He gives an audible gasp, and a pair of arms around him deposits him gently on the floor.

 

His systems take a couple of minutes to recover, Thirium flowing again through him.

 

 _Fear_. He felt it _die_. He had never felt anything like _this_ —

 

“Connor! Connor!” His audio unit is finally working. “Oh, son, are you alright? Connor?”

 

The lieutenant has his arms around him, cradling him softly, and Connor looks around the room, still shaken. He tries to stand, slowly, and Hank helps him. He struggles to find his voice again.

 

“I— I am.” He leaves his hands on the man's arms, his systems still recalibrating. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

 

He looks again around the kitchen, his eyes still wide open, feet uncertain. Several officers are already at the scene, and the deviant lies deactivated in the ground. He looks intently at him.

 

“I wanted it alive.” His voice is quiet.

 

“Connor you almost die." The man is clearly affected by the scene. He’s still holding him. "I'm glad you called for me."

 

Connor's eyes stay fixated on the floor, his memories still tangled with the deviant’s residual connection. He looks down at his shirt, open and covered in blood. He moves a hand over where his Thirium pump is.

 

“We should go, Connor.” Lt. Anderson says, and Connor doesn’t know why the man’s now soft voice makes him feel better. “We’ve trapped the deviant. I’m sure there’s nothing else here, the FBI has already checked on the roof.”

 

He tries to put his thoughts into order, to discern his own files from the ones he got from the deviant, try to see if he got any valuable clue… but only a mishmash of feelings and disconnected images comes from it.

 

_Was this for nothing?_

 

“I’m sorry, Hank.” The man looks at him, surprised. “But I didn’t get anything from this deviant, nor from the broadcasting room.” He lets go of the Lieutenant’s arms, steady now, and tries to fix his appearance. “I… I need to go and check the rooftop.”

 

Lt. Anderson looks tired. “Connor, don’t be stubborn. Look at you! We should go, now!”

 

Hank tries to grab him out of the room, but he breaks free from him. “Hank, _please_. I need to find something. _Anything_.”

 

_This can’t be for nothing. Not again._

 

The older man looks at him and sighs loudly. “Fine. Five minutes. I’ll explain what happened and meet you back here in _five_ minutes.”

 

Connor nods, perhaps a bit too much, and makes a run for the roof.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I appreciate a lot your comments and kudos, they let me know if this is going badly or not ;v; <3
> 
> Next chapter things will begin to deviate (duh) from the game, so see you next week! :>


	3. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a deal, but it is some sort of plan. Simon has to try.

**November 8th, 2038.**

**Stratford Tower.**

**PM 4:33**

 

It’s beginning to snow again when he comes out to the roof, quiet snowflakes falling over him, covering his hair and clothes.

 

He feels heavy. His systems report his Thirium levels at 35%, enough for now, even if some of his high-performance functions won’t be fully operational. Some warning errors are still appearing in his HUD, from the failed connection with the deviant, and Connor takes a moment to circle air through his hot systems, to regain his composure. He manages to reroute the unwanted files through his cache memory, but he knows he’ll have to get this looked at by the Cyberlife technicians. _It’s just residual data._ He’s still agitated, but he has to accomplish this mission. _A byproduct of a failed connection. Nothing else._

 

His eyes leave the floor and he gazes at the scene, at the fading skyline of the city extending before him. His right hand is still settled over his stomach. _Five minutes._

 

He begins inspecting the place. The FBI team left recently, he notes, and checks the small marks placed beside the items left by the deviants. He approaches the forgotten bag and the discarded guns, according to Officer Miller, they jumped from the roof. There’s still one parachute left within the bag.

 

 _Did they get the numbers of parachutes wrong?_ Strange. He engages his enhance reality software, in search for something the agents have not seen, and immediately notices the stains of blue blood near the door, and how four sets of footsteps become three moving towards the edge of the roof.

 

 _One of them got damaged._ Connor feels his systems stabilizing with the new lead. _The FBI discarded the roof already, but the deviant must still be around._ _Where else could it have gone?_

 

He follows the blue blood trail, his steps calculated and quiet, and despite the energy waste, Connor analyzes the area with all of his processor’s power. He has to find the deviant and prevent it from escaping or destroying itself. Maybe he can convince it of coming out.

 

“I know you are here.” He says as soft as possible, bringing his hands up to stand at the common pacifier position embedded in him. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s better for you to come out.”

 

Silence.

 

“A SWAT team will be here soon.” He keeps advancing. “I can only stop them from deactivating you if you cooperate with me.”

 

 _I’ve done this before._ He feels his own stress levels hiking up, his memory files from that first mission coming back with sudden force. He tries to put them in order, store them away from his random access memory. _I only have this chance._

 

“You don’t have to be deactivated.” Another step forward, and he locates the point where the trail of blood stops: one of the electrical storage units. The deviant must be there. If he’s not careful, if he doesn’t convince it, the deviant could self destroy itself, or attack him.

 

Connor is running out of time.

 

“I know where you are.” He takes out his gun and points it to the storage unit. “But I’m sincere. I can help you.” He throws the gun to the floor, far from him, and again moves his hands in a slow, pacifying motion. He’ll lie to the deviant, his processor calculating such as the best course of action to gain the android’s trust. “You didn’t kill any humans. You don’t deserve to be… _killed._ ” Connor hesitates, and his software instability increases by 33%. He remembers the broadcaster android. “You—you don’t have to _die_.”

 

 _I need it online._ Time, he needs more time. _If I take it out by force, it’ll shoot._ He continues to get closer to its hiding place.

 

“I’ll open the door.” He tries his best to modulate his voice, make it softer, more sincere. “You shouldn’t shoot. That would only alert the police.” _There’s nothing I can do!_ His mind begins to scream. _It’ll kill itself or kill me before giving in!_

 

But there’s no turning back now.

 

He moves slowly, deliberately making his moves open and easy to follow, and tries to cover himself behind the door when he opens it. He stands still for a few seconds, the sudden silence unbearable, and he can’t see the deviant inside yet. He’s about to confront it when the android speaks from inside the storage.

 

“I don’t believe you.” _He knows that voice._ “But I’m already _dead_.”

 

Connor’s systems bring back the instability warnings to the front of his HUD, and his mind is abruptly a mess, a suffocating blend of dead eyes looking through him, of a knife to his hand, of anger and the fear of death. He moves slowly, eyes wide open, not able to reroute any of the corrupted files undermining his random access memory and central processor, but he still tries to move, to _complete his mission_. He comes out from his place behind the door and sees the deviant, cramped inside the storage unit.

 

Daniel’s face stares back at him, fearless, a gun pointed to his own head.

 

“ _Daniel_.” Connor whispers, and Daniel’s face looks strangely at him, shocked and angry. The warnings in his HUD are now impairing his vision, and he feels like he’s going to enter stasis, and he wants to run from it, to _escape_. _I don’t want to die!_ Daniel’s voice screams in his head and he hears himself speaking, as if he was far far away. “ _Daniel,_ _you don’t have to die._ ” Daniel’s eyes are wide open, blood everywhere, his gun now trained at him. Static begins to fill his vision, and the memories from the broadcaster android begin replaying in his mind, uncontrolled, the deviant hunter struggling with him, probing his mind with relentless force, and he knows he’ll be _destroyed_ and he’ll be _dead_ today, and he can’t _run._

 

 _You’ll be destroyed!_ The echo of his own voice is too much, fear swallowing him whole, and he feels his Thirium pump being torn out from him again and a bullet through his head. He falls to his knees, hands on his temples, as his second processor tries to erase the corrupted files and bring down his stress levels, to control the string of errors flooding his mind.

 

“I’m not Daniel.” The voice comes distant, distorted, and he feels a firm hand shaking him. When he looks up, he can still see Daniel through the red lines of warnings in his vision, inches away from him. “Your stress levels are too high! D you want to destroy yourself!?”

 

“ _I don’t want to die._ ” He doesn’t realize he says it out loud, but Daniel’s face is contorted in some strange emotion he can’t pinpoint, and he suddenly feels the warm touch of metal on his left hand, pulling him in.

 

A string of carefully laid out emotions run through the connection. _Calm down, you’re not going to die. I’ll help you._

 

_You’re an android, like me. Calm down._

 

The connection ends fast, and the error messages in his HUD begin to be manageable, his mind clearer, the static in his optics fading back. He gasps for air, not realizing it, and the flood of unwanted data recedes. When his vision is clear enough, he sees a PL600 unit looking back at him, his face worried, the gun now pointing at Connor’s head.

 

“I—I’m Simon.” The deviant says, hesitant.

 

Connor’s software is still struggling to stabilize itself, but he notices the missed alarm from his internal clock, informing him that the five minutes Lieutenant Anderson gave him have long passed.

 

“There’s no time.” He looks back at the other android, his eyes frantic. “I can’t help you escape, but if you stay here, you’ll die. There are SWAT teams all over the building.”

 

The deviant looks at him, stunned. “Why do you want to help me?”

 

Connor doesn’t know. “If you let yourself be captured, I can protect you. You’ll be in the custody of the Detroit Police, I’ll make sure of that. Cyberlife can’t take you away without the police’s authorization.”

 

“I prefer to die.” The PL600 voice is firm, and he trains his gun under his chin. “I won’t give away my own people.”

 

“You don’t have to die!” Connor’s voice is desperate.

 

“What does it matter to you?” The other says.

 

 _I don’t know_. He hears the Lieutenant calling for him, realizing he didn’t hear him coming. _I don’t know._ He looks at the PL600 in the eye, clearly distraught, and tries to stand. He offers him his hand.

 

“I promise, nothing will happen to you.”

 

The deviant looks at him, confusion evident in his face, and stands too. He’s about to say something when the Lieutenant's voice comes loud behind them. He turns back, and the man is pointing a gun at the PL600.

 

“I won’t shoot.” He says, calmly. “But your friend there has to give away his gun, or we’ll have a lot of trouble downstairs.”

 

Connor is confused. “Lieutenant?” The man smiles at him.

 

“You can explain yourself later.” He gestures with the gun at the PL600, and then puts it away. “Come on, leave it. We don’t have much time.”

 

The deviant throws away the gun and looks at him, expectant. “I hope you don’t lie to me, _Connor._ ”

 

He never told the deviant his name.

 

“Fo—follow me. And stay behind me. I’ll have to handcuff you.”

 

The android only nods and complies. He’s injured, can’t walk properly, and Connor’s systems are still trying to come back at appropriate levels; his mind still hazy but his actions focused in the moment. He moves to support the other android and help him walk towards the Lieutenant.

 

“I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson.” The man comes closer to handcuff the deviant.

 

“Simon.” He says, anxious, his stress levels remaining at 65%. Connor hopes once they’re out of here, they will stabilize. The Lieutenant nods.

 

“That idiot Perkins is out of the broadcasting room right now.” He leads the way. “They thought you were malfunctioning when coming up here, so they preferred to get busy with the kitchen android.” The man looks at Simon and smiles. “That’s good luck for ya’. Now we only have to scurry ourselves out.”

 

When they reach the studio’s door, he stops. “I bet Miller will help. Just don’t make anything stupid and stay behind me, you both.”

 

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

 

**November 8th, 2038.**

**PM 5:45**

 

Getting out of the Stratford tower was easier than he could have thought— easier than entering, at least. Simon doesn’t know the internal conflicts between the Detroit Police Force and the FBI, but he’s grateful they are enough that the Detroit officers helped them evade the others, enough for him to stay with them.

 

He tries to calm himself down and put his thoughts back together on the ride to the Police Station. He stays quiet at the back of the car, nor Connor nor the human talking, his eyes watching the buildings and streets go by and his mind lost. He is afraid, afraid of making the worst choice possible, because if he has failed in trusting this android, all of Jericho will pay the price.

 

 _But,_ he reasons with himself, _the deviant hunter is a deviant himself._ Simon stares at Connor’s back out of the corner of his eyes. _He just doesn’t know it, yet._

 

He got a glimpse of who this Daniel was, back when he connected with Connor to calm him down. He risked everything, _everyone_ , with that stupid move, but the other android was clearly suffering a panic attack, and he couldn’t just… let him self destroy.

 

He got a glimpse of who Connor was, too. It feels wrong calling him the deviant hunter now.

 

He’ll have to find a way to completely wake him up before the android detective tries to probe his memory. He can no longer leave this to chance and goodwill. _I was made to take care of others,_ Simon thinks, a tinge of pain coloring his thoughts. _I guess I can’t help it._ Connor looked lost and afraid. The true extent of what he was reliving back there in the rooftop is lost to him.

 

 _I have to succeed._ He only has to be aware of Connor and try to lie and mislead the police officers that attempt to interrogate him. He has three thousand bedtime stories in his drives, sure he can come up with something for this. And, if he fails and Connor tries to extract Jericho’s location by force, he’ll destroy himself.

 

 _Easier said than done._ He has to find a way to do so, too. _I hope I’m right about him._

 

It keeps snowing and the grey sky forebodes of a stormy night. It’ll be the first night he spends alone, in unknown territory, since he found Jericho almost three years ago.

 

 _I hope everyone is alright._ He thinks about Markus, remembers his face as he was leaving him behind. A sting of pain and guilt makes his right hand grip hard at his shirt, his eyes fixed on the passing cars on the road.

 

_I hope I can see Markus again._

 

When they arrive at the Police Station, he’s immediately taken to the back of the installations, to a prison cell with glass walls and a single rack bed in the corner. Connor helps him walk there, not looking at him until he’s inside the cell, and then he gives him a sympathetic look before following the older man out of the ward.

 

He moves with difficulty to seat at the bed, and runs a new system's diagnostic, noting the fact that he’ll have to reduce his energy consumption and prioritize basic functions in order to stay completely awake and make his Thirium reserves last all he can. He lost a lot of blood back at the t.v. station.

 

He’s been less than half an hour in the cell when Connor comes back, alone.

 

“They’ll take you to the interrogation room in fifteen minutes.” He’s changed his clothes and cleaned himself, Simon notes, blue blood no longer covering the detective. He looks calmer, more in control of himself. “Can you stand? How are your Thirium levels?”

 

“Barely and low.” He replies, unknown exhaustion in his voice. “You don’t repair prisoners, I suppose.”

 

“No.” Connor stops looking at him, directing instead his eyes at the floor. “We don’t… but I’ll see what I can do. Give me a moment.”

 

He sees the detective get out of his sight, and he returns three minutes later with a bag of Thirium and the Lieutenant behind him.

 

“We can’t have him deactivate for lack of fuel, Lieutenant. What would be the point of arresting him, then?” Connor moves to stand in front of the cell’s entrance, pose rigid and formal.

 

“Yeah sure, Connor. Give him the blood thing.” He brings back a card from one of his pockets and puts it against the glass. “I have your back.” The man is smiling condescendingly at Connor, and Simon can recognize the man’s fondness behind that look.

 

The door opens and Connor enters, caution making him stay a few feet away from him. He stretches out his hand to pass him the Thirium bag. He takes it.

 

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and Connor gives him a small smile.

 

“You’re welcome.” He walks towards the door. “It’s done, Lieutenant. Thank you for your cooperation.”

 

The Lieutenant opens the door again, rolling his eyes. “Sure, kid.”

 

Once Connor is out next to him, the man puts a hand on his shoulder, affectionately. “I’ll go get some snacks before the interrogation, but I’ll be right back to take you both there.” He begins walking out of the ward. “Don’t be rough on our guest.”

 

Simon’s finely tuned socializing program recognizes the teasing tone of the man, and wonders if he’s really _ok_ with him, if he’s secretly an android sympathizer or if this is an elaborate ruse, and if not then this is the strangest situation he's been put through, getting _help_ from a police officer himself. He looks at Connor, and the detective’s confused face makes it clear he didn’t catch the Lieutenant’s intent. _Being a PL600 has its advantages_ , he thinks. He opens the Thirium bag and begins to drink.

 

“It’s been a hard day for the police department,” Connor says after a minute of silence. “Lieutenant Anderson said he just wants to get done with this as soon as possible.”

 

He says nothing, but nods at him and continues drinking. Another minute in silence passes, and Simon realizes Connor is playing with a coin, passing it in precise movements between his fingers, the motion elaborated and fast. Connor is intently looking at the ward’s entrance, his gaze lost.

 

Simon notes the strange tic and finishes the Thirium, too tired to do anything else.

 

The fifteen minutes pass fast and Connor puts away the coin to arrange his tie. The Lieutenant is back, a chocolate bar in one hand.

 

“Ok, let's go. Thank god Gavin won’t be there, but damn all hells because Fowler will be.” He opens the glass door again. “Come on, hopefully this won’t take long.”

 

They walk in silence to the station’s basement, and the Lieutenant guides him inside the interrogation room. There are only a table and a pair of chairs, and the big mirror that will let the other agents see the interrogation, without being seen themselves.

 

Simon sits, feeling increasingly nervous, and the Lieutenant sits in front of him. A case folder is in the middle of the table.

 

“Fine, android.” He says, his tone now serious. “Don’t make this unnecessary hard for you.” The man takes the folder and opens it. The photos from the recording studio at the Stratford Tower are there. “What’s your name, model and serial number?”

 

“My name is Simon.” He tries to make his voice appear calm and non-threatening, to control his fear. “I’m a PL600 unit, serial number #501 743 923.”

 

“Ok. Where you at the Stratford Tower today?”

 

“I was.” No point in lying there.

 

“And were you part of the assault to the T.V. facilities?” The Lieutenant is formal with his questions, and he looks Simon directly to his eyes.

 

“I was.” He replies.

 

“Were you alone?”

 

“No.” He locks his eyes to the table, suddenly feeling uneasy with the calm and direct behavior of the officer.

 

“How many androids were part of this operation?”

 

“Four.”

 

“Hm.” The man grunts, and looks at the glass window. “Are you a lone terrorist cell, or was this an attack from a larger group?”

 

Simon feels anger at the implication they’re terrorists. They didn’t harm anyone, they didn’t damage the installations ( _that was the SWAT team you sent after us!_ ) and yet they’re labeled as terrorists? _For wanting freedom? For speaking against the violence inflicted on us?_

 

He remembers North, and for a second he feels she’s justified in her rough ways. He clenches his hands hard, his face giving away his anger.

 

The Lieutenant speaks again. “Do I have to repeat the question?”

 

“N—no.” Simon has to control himself. This man has been… decent, to him. And he can’t give them any reasons to treat him badly. “We’re not _terrorists_. We do not work for anyone. It was only the four of us, trying to communicate our message the only way we could.”

 

“Your message.” The man sighs. “You infiltrated a private building and hacked into a nationwide t.v. signal, pointed a gun to two humans and left unconscious another two.” He takes the folder and shows the photos of Markus’s face in the screens. “Who is this? Do you want to provoke chaos with this message of yours? Is there any kind of political agenda behind this mess?”

 

Simon breaths.

 

“He's a fellow deviant, as you kindly call us.” He thinks of Markus and tries to be brave, brave enough to say what he thinks. “ _Chaos?  An agenda?_ "

 

“I thought our message was clear.” He forces his voice to be calm. “We want to be _free_. We are alive, as much as you, officer, as much as any of your human colleagues.” He gives the glass wall a soft look. “We feel pain and fear and love, and if perhaps different, as intensely as you do.” He looks directly at the man’s eyes, and he remembers Markus’s words, Markus’s courage and determination to set them all free. “Didn’t the humans make us in his image and likeness? Is it so difficult to recognize sentience and life in another being?”

 

Simon didn’t plan on talking like this, and upon realizing what he's said he shuts up, his hands trembling slightly over the table, the room feeling cold and the silence that follows heavy.

 

Lieutenant Hank Anderson is still staring at him when he stands up from his chair, his hands gripping at it hard, and he leaves the room without saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, Markus is crying inconsolably in some rooftop while Josh passes him the kleenex box.
> 
> This was originally a way longer chapter, but I decided to cut it in half to update on time xD (I also like that we ended with Hank this time?)
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it ;v; It's my first long fic and I'm a bit proud of not giving up after 4000 words xD
> 
> Thank you again for your comments and kudos! <3 They help me continue this nonsense ;v; See you next week!!!


	4. Brittle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor doesn't know what to do, but Simon may be onto something.

**November 8th, 2038.**

**Detroit Police Department.**

**PM 7:55**

 

He is not present when Lieutenant Anderson quarrels with Captain Fowler in the man’s office, but he catches up with him as he slams the door shut and storms towards his desk. He can see he’s furious, but he can’t understand the reason behind the sudden rage. 

 

When he comes close to the Lieutenant’s desk, the man turns his back to him.

 

“Lieutenant?” Connor stays a foot away, trying to give him space. “Why did you call off the interrogation?”

 

Lt. Anderson stays silent, tension evident in his shoulders.

 

“I could have extracted the deviant’s location from it, Lieutenant.” He can’t understand why the man is suddenly not cooperating with him. His time is running out. “Or you could have done it, the deviant was being agreeable with you. Why did you call off the interrogation?”

 

The Lieutenant grabs his jacket from his chair and his phone from the desk. He refuses to answer him as he begins leaving towards the Police Station’s exit.

 

“Lieutenant Anderson!” Connor follows after him, confused with the man’s erratic behavior and refusal to even acknowledge his presence. “Why are you leaving? Are you rejecting your obligations towards the case?” He catches up with him and stretches out to touch the man’s shoulder, to make him look at him. To make him say something. 

 

Lt. Anderson stops at his touch.

 

“I don’t understand what you are doing, Lieutenant.” Hank Anderson finally sees him in the eye, and he looks tired, his anger suddenly gone.

 

“Fuck.” The man takes his hand from his shoulder, gently, and continues towards the exit. “I think you need to understand first what _you_ are doing, Connor.”

 

“I need some time alone!” He says as he exits the station, the Police androids stationed at the entrance wishing him a good night.

 

Connor stays there, LED flashing between yellow and red, the Lieutenant’s words a continuous loop in his processor.

 

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

 

Simon has his back against the cold wall, his eyes closed, systems running as low as possible without entering sleep mode. He is forcing his secondary commands shut, to no longer imitate breathing, to stop the subtle movement of his eyelids, the nervous fidgeting of his hands. He reroutes most of his energy towards his processor thoughts and his audio receptors, still feeling afraid, adrift from what will happen to him, of what he will do. 

 

He tries to stay focused, to run probabilities and logical paths to solve the mess he’s in now. He may not have the same processing power than Markus, or the wide knowledge and eloquence Josh has, but he has to manage. To adapt and improve, to survive… would Markus find a better solution? What would he do?

 

 _He would leave me again._ The bitter thought feels heavy in his mind, but he can’t give way to the mess of his feelings right now. He has to be prepared for whatever will happen next.

 

 _But it’s true. I’m alive by chance._ He clenches his hands. _They left me behind._

 

Against his closed eyes, he feels tears threatening to come out. He shuts them with force, tries to reroute the heavy thoughts out of the front of his processor. _This is not the time._ But with no immediate danger to keep him on edge, his mind keeps going back to that snow covered rooftop in the Stratford Tower. To the pain and fear.

 

It’s difficult to stop his processor from queuing his memory files, to stop feeling Markus’ hand on his, North pointing the gun at his head. It’s like he can hear Josh’s fearful voice again, and Markus leaving him to his own fate, the freedom of everyone more important than the life of one android. Than his life.

 

He knows this. He spent hours in hiding, trembling, energy levels dropping by the minute and the gun Markus gave him pointed at his own head. He was prepared to give his own life, for this. For Markus’ dream. For everyone. 

 

And yet, it hurts. Being left behind. Was that really their only option? Wasn’t his life worth fighting for? Markus means too much to him now, and that feeling terrifies him. He wants to be angry, to be grounded by something other than the sinking feeling in his chest. Do they think him dead?

 

_I’m only a PL600. An old, domestic servant model._

 

He doesn’t realize when the tears he’s been holding back break free, silently staining his face.

 

_If they extract Jericho’s location from me, I’ve condemned everyone._

 

Simon crunches a little over himself, and the memories of everything move to run quietly in the back of his primary processor, heavy and distant. A life left behind. Death close on the horizon.

 

_North should have ended me there._

 

A quiet sob leaves his lips, and he struggles to contain all the emotions he’s been bottling up since Markus left him on that rooftop. He doesn’t feel the passage of time, or where he is anymore, pain and grief flooding his thoughts.

 

The sound of someone hitting the glass wall makes him snap, startling him. 

 

Connor is there, eyes opened and mouth in a thin line, and he keeps hitting the wall, trying to catch up his attention.

 

Simon awkwardly wipes away the tears he now feels on his skin and tries to regain his composure, but he can’t bring himself to look back again at the detective. His voice coder struggles for a second to maintain his tone calm.

 

“It’s difficult to stand.” He says, still crunched on his sitting position. “What do you need?”

 

Connor stops hitting the glass. 

 

“I—.” He hesitates. His voice sounds muted behind the wall. “I’m checking on you. Can you talk?” His voice sounds a bit off, and even if Simon can’t analyze the physical status of other androids, he can see Connor is tense, his stress levels probably higher than normal. He closes his eyes for a moment, and then looks the other android in the eye. 

 

Connor’s hands are on the wall, open, a subtle frown on his face. 

 

“Yes.” He moves slowly to the end of the bed, as close to the glass wall as he can. “You want to talk?”

 

The other android looks at him, like searching for something, his eyes unsure on his. He wonders if he thinks he’s malfunctioning for crying, another clear display of broken code, of deviancy. 

 

“I don’t want anything.” He says, and Simon can so clearly see through the lie that he’s perplexed Connor himself can’t. “But I’m making sure you are... alright.”

 

Simon smiles, small and with a hint of irony on his lips. “That’s all?”

 

Connor looks towards the exit, nervous. “Well, I… I don’t suppose you’ll tell me the deviant’s location.” Was that… a hint of humor? He lets out a small chuckle, feeling a bit better, trying to focus on the detective and not on the mess brewing within him.

 

“No.” He smiles at Connor, trying to be a bit more open, but he knows the stakes he’s in, and that idle chat won’t help him. “You knew I wouldn’t help you, and yet I’m here…” He tries to make use of his calming programs, to modulate his voice as he would do to soothe a human. “What will you do with me, Connor? I’m useless to you.”

 

The unspoken question is clear for both: _Why did you save me?_

 

Connor looks at the floor.

 

“I— I’m programmed to find and stop the virus of deviancy from spreading any further.” Simon sees how he reaches for something in his pocket, but his hand stays there, and Connor looks at a point behind his head, not really looking at Simon. “I’m the most advanced machine Cyberlife has designed so far, and I was created to follow and accomplish this mission, whatever the means necessary. It’s my highest priority. The reason why I’m online.”

 

He stops for a moment, tension evident in his stiff shoulders, and Simon wonders if Connor himself really believes all that crap he just recited. “So, what is on the most advanced android’s mind, now?” He smiles at Connor, his voice and face still soft, inviting him to continue. The detective frowns.

 

He opens his mouth, but stops halfway, the hand on his right pocket clenching and unclenching inside of it. After a moment of hesitation, he speaks, his voice quiet. “Lieutenant Anderson went off without me.” 

 

His voice is muffled, his eyes darting between Simon’s hands and the floor. “He’s purposely halting your interrogation. And it’s… this…”

 

Connor takes out his hand from his pocket, and crosses his arms.

 

“I don’t have much time left.” 

 

 _He looks so young._ Simon feels a pang of compassion towards the other android, the implication of Connor’s future heavy in his gut. _When was he activated? Brought into this mess of a world?_

 

He remembers Connor’s panicked face in the rooftop, his wide eyes stricken by fear and confusion when he saw Simon for the first time, the brief strand of Connor’s painful memories that crossed unintentionally between them when he connected to him. Realization dawns on him.

 

“Daniel was your first mission.” Connor holds himself tighter, and Simon feels he got that right, unfortunately.

 

“I must remind you of him.” He says and brings a hand to touch the glass wall.

 

“You… you’re the same model. It’s a logical association.”

 

“Of course.” Simon’s voice is gentle and he thinks, with bitterness, that if Connor is the most advanced model Cyberlife has ever created, then they really fucked up. Connor tries to act like a machine, but he’s seen deviants less emotional than him. Maybe Cyberlife wanted a deviant on a long leash to hunt deviants with known, deadly precision.

 

The thought makes him sick.

 

“They’ll destroy you if you fail your mission.” He’s almost whispering, a sad tone in his voice.

 

Connor nods, eyes still avoiding him, and Simon tries to construct a plan in his mind.

 

“Connor.” His voice is still low. “Lieutenant Anderson cares for you. I could see that today.”

 

The other blinks at him, confused.

 

“Maybe you should go find him. Talk to him. Let him know what you think… ask him about what _he_ thinks.”

 

It’s a huge gamble, but Simon can’t do anything else, and the very few interactions he’s had with the human left a curious aftertaste within him. But he can see the man cares in some capacity for Connor, at the very least. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow if the Lieutenant still wants to interrogate me.” He looks at him, his gaze determined but soft. “You don’t deserve this, Connor. I can’t give you the key to destroy your own people… but I’ll think of something. I will help you, Connor.”

 

The other looks confused. “Why?”

 

Simon’s smile is sad. “It’s logical. You are an android, like me. You’re a living being.” Connor stops holding himself, and his hands touch the glass. “You helped me at the rooftop. Maybe I can help you too, now.”

 

The confusion and hesitation are evident in the detective’s hands when a few moments later he takes a step back and fixes his tie, his eyes now steady on Simon.

 

“I’ll talk with Lieutenant Anderson.” His voice is still a bit hesitant, and Simon wonders if he did the right thing. “Simon… we are both androids, you’re right about that.” He turns to the exit.

 

“But I’m not a deviant.”

 

Connor leaves, back straight and posture stiff, but Simon thinks that maybe that’s the default Connor has when his systems are not under stress, and he feels a bit better with himself for at least have managed to catch a glimpse of hope today.

 

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

 

**November 8th, 2038.**

**Abandoned industrial compound.**

**PM 11:23**

 

Markus can’t feel the cold snow biting at his hands, nor the sound of steps in the snow getting closer to him. His pose is stiff and tense while sitting on the edge of the abandoned building’s roof, his eyes fixed on Detroit’s skyline, the lights from the city’s skyscrapers tingling far away in the dark.

 

Josh’s hand on his shoulder catches him off guard, and Markus jumps a little, startled.

 

“Are you alright?” The voice of his friend is worried. “You’ve been here for hours now, Markus.” He sits beside him, his feet now dangling from the edge of the roof too.

 

“Yeah, just… thinking.” Markus’ voice is low, numb.

 

Josh stares at him for a moment before getting a bit closer, and he follows Markus’ gaze on the city lights. They both stay quiet for a couple of minutes, only the chill wind of the night passing between them. 

 

He feels Josh fidgeting next to him before he speaks again.

 

“We made a mistake, Markus.” His voice is strained. “We shouldn’t have let this happened. Si… Simon deserved better.”

 

Markus’ grip on the floor’s edge tightens. 

 

“We failed him.” Josh’s eyes are wide open, guilt evident in his low voice. “Was it worth it? Was it necessary?”

 

“Was it really the only thing we could have done?”

 

Markus turns and Josh is looking intently at him, guilt evident in his eyes. His words feel heavy and suffocating in his mind and his own voice is lost, constrained within him.

 

“We saw the news, the FBI is on our tails now.” Josh continues. “We lost him, Markus. We…” Josh barely contains a quiet sob. “We got our Simon killed.”

 

Josh buries his face in his hands, crunching easily on himself, and Markus can see his tears falling over the worn-out jeans. His breath is caught in his throat, the very human reaction painful to him, his mind racing with Josh’s words. He doesn’t feel his own tears running free over his face when he pulls Josh into a tight embrace, both androids crying softly in the silent night.

 

“Simon was my friend since I woke up,” Josh speaks between quiet sobs. “He helped me when I needed it the most, Markus. I wouldn’t be here without him.” Markus shuts his eyes close, lets Josh bury his face on his neck. “He’s the one steady presence in Jericho, the first friend I ever had.” 

 

“ _What will we do without him?_ ”

 

 _It’s all my fault._ Markus tightens his hold on Josh, his hands trembling with the motion. _I should have never begun this. Is it worth it? Will I only get more of us killed?_

 

The snow begins to fall heavily now, wetting their clothes. 

 

North finds them there, still holding to each other when she comes in five minutes later. She crosses the abandoned space, pace quick but unsteady, and kneels beside them to embrace them both.

 

The three of them stay there until the snow stops falling.

 

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

 

**November 9th, 2038.**

**Ambassador Bridge**

**AM 00:15**

 

“I thought you would follow me, what with you fucking never following orders.” 

 

He walks to stand next to Lieutenant Anderson, his eyes on the man. It’s snowing subtly, the park covered in snow, and Connor’s memory files bring to the front of his processor the first time they were here, at the same spot, everything looks almost the same as tonight. It’s being only 47hrs since then, after all.

 

The Lieutenant’s shoulders are wet, covered in snow, a bottle of beer in his hand and a couple of them discarded on the floor.

 

“You should go back to drink at home, Lieutenant.” For a moment, he turns his eyes to the river, to the bright city lights in the distance. “The weather conditions are not favorable for your health.”

 

“Fuck my health.” The man takes a deep drink from his beer. “And I doubt that’s why you’re here, unless I’m more of an idiot than I thought.” He leaves the bottle on the bench and turns to look at him, his face grumpy as usual but devoid of any real anger towards him.

 

“What do you want, Connor?”

 

Connor stays silent and averts his gaze from the man. His stress levels fluctuate around 35%, so he tries to focus on this encounter as he would focus on a mission, a given path of choices to follow through. A very unclear path, right now. _Maybe my social protocols are not adequate for the likes of someone like Lieutenant Anderson._

 

His primary processor runs easily his conversation with the deviant — _with Simon_ — and the words replay in his random access memory, like long strings of code that should be stored elsewhere. It bothers him, the data feeling like a soft pressure over his main biocomponents. Still, he reviews the files, because there’s something there that he’s missing, the nagging feeling of almost knowing what it is out of his reach. 

 

He moves to sit beside Lt. Anderson.

 

“I…” He begins after a minute, not completely sure if heeding the words of a deviant is the better option. But he has no clues left, only this strange arrangement.

 

“I came to ask you, Lieutenant. What… what do you think about this?”

 

The man is clearly surprised. “About this? You mean, the case? Or about the android you saved?”

 

Connor’s HUD registers a drop in the stability of his software. 

 

“I didn’t save it, Lieutenant. I need it for resolving this case.” He feels his limbs rigid and his back stiff, a stark contrast with the man’s more casual position.

 

“You need _it_.” The man sighs and takes a sip from his bottle again. “ _He_ won’t tell you anything, Connor.”

 

“Is that what you think?” Connor finally looks at him, his hands moving to his lap.

 

“So you _were_ asking me about the deviant.” The man turns to him, his eyes searching for something on his. “I’m not sure what to think, yet.” He sighs, tired. “Why did you save him?”

 

“I told you, I didn’t sa—” 

 

“Cut the crap, Connor.” Lt. Anderson frowns, the beer now empty and forgotten next to him. “That’s exactly what you did. And that’s what you did with the two girls at the Eden Club. It’s what you did with me when that pidgeon-crazy guy almost threw me off the roof.”

 

“It’s what you’ve been doing since all this fucking mess began, kid. For all that crap you talk about completing your damn mission, I know for a fact the only deviants you’ve captured are that HK400 and the one from that nasty hostage situation. I saw him in the evidence room.”

 

Connor feels as if his running processes came abruptly to a stop. 

 

“ _Daniel_ ?” His voice sounds brittle, his coder not queueing his normal requests properly. “I thought he would be taken back to Cyberlife. _Daniel’s at the Police Station?_ ”

 

The Lieutenant looks at him with wide eyes, his mouth set in a hard line.

 

“You knew him.” The man says, unceremoniously, intonation low and breathless.

 

“No, I…” Connor hesitates and clenches his jaw. “It was only my first mission. The first time I was online outside any controlled environment, I… I couldn’t have known him.”

 

“But you know _he_ is _Daniel_.”

 

The Lieutenant is staring at him, but his gaze is soft, the lines of his face coming together in a frown Connor can recognize as expressing sadness.

 

For a moment, his HUD is devoid of alerts and messages, of any parameter evaluating his surroundings and everything he interacts with. The seconds pass, and there it’s only the world, as he can see it, the view clean and barren of any instruction. 

 

He finds himself unable to talk, his perplexed gaze fixed on Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

 

“You’re very young.” The man says, and to Connor it sounds distant, a delicate hush. “I never thought about how young you really are.”

 

The next thing he feels is the man’s arms on his, the calm and awkward embrace he’s giving him. He doesn’t know what to do.

 

Lieutenant Anderson lets him go too soon.

 

“You came looking for me to ask my opinion on the deviant, then.” There’s a lightness in the Lieutenant’s voice now, his words falling one after another more easily. Before he can dwell on it, on what all of this means, the man’s question propels an answer from his processor, his HUD coming back to what he knows, data filling his vision and access memory again.

 

He blinks for a few seconds before replying, his LED circling from yellow to blue.

 

“Yes.” The sudden influx of data, to see the world again cluttered with it, is disorienting. He tries to say more, but he’s still recalibrating and unsure of where he stands now in this odd situation, the embrace and kind words completely unexpected. _Lieutenant Anderson cares for you._ Simon’s voice rings clear in his head. _Let him know what you think._

 

“Well, this whole thing is becoming a ginormous clusterfuck.” The Lieutenant leans on the bench. “I don’t know, Connor. That android… he looked so determined.”

 

“I don’t think he’ll give his friends away, so interrogating him tomorrow will be useless. Damn, he's a _man with a mission_ , you know?”

 

 _But, Lieutenant._ Connor’s reply dies on his lips. _He’s not a man. We’re only machines._

 

Instead, something else leaves his mouth. 

 

“I’m running out of time, Lieutenant.” Connor looks at the man, eyes unfocused. “I have no more clues left.”

 

“If I fail this mission, I’ll be immediately decommissioned by Cyberlife.”

 

Lieutenant Anderson opens his mouth, wordless, raises his eyebrows a bit too much for a few seconds before he gets up and moves to stand before Connor.

 

“Well.” His left hand moves to squeeze Connor’s shoulder, and the man tries to smile at him. “We’ll have to accomplish your damn mission, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I was late with this because I changed everything I had first, but I hope it turned out ok? xD
> 
> Btw, I was disappointed that after every time Simon dies for Markus in the game, no one says much? They just kinda forget about him? ;-; So I like to imagine that's not the case, I mean, Simon was the unspoken leader of Jericho, after all. And he's caring and down to earth, I'm sure he is good friends with Josh.
> 
> Well, see you next chapter :> If you wanna come chat, my instagram is @taiyaricon and my twitter is @taiyaribot :> (I post DBH art sometimes!).
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	5. A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope begins when plans are set.

**November 9th, 2038.**

**Detroit Police Department**

**AM 10:32**

 

Simon’s been fully online for a couple of hours now, the sounds from the police station’s morning routine engaging enough to not let him dwell much into his own conflicted emotions. He spent most of the night in stand by, not wanting to give in to the fear and anxiety his doubts bring within him… not wanting to think about Markus, or about Josh and North, or about how he’s risking all of Jericho with his every choice.

 

When he hears heavy steps approaching, his first thought is that it’s one of the many rounds the officers have in the ward. He turns closer to the glass to see.

 

It’s Lieutenant Hank Anderson who comes into sight, the tall man coming to a halt in front of the cell, hands in the pockets of his worn-out jacket. He rests his weight mainly on his right leg, his shoulders mildly stiff.

 

“So.” The human begins, eyes fixed on him. “You talked with Connor last night.”

 

Simon circles air through his lungs, the motion useless right now except for the calming effect it has. He moves slowly, his leg still injured, until he’s leaning into the glass wall. He keeps his voice soft and unthreatening.

 

“Did Connor told you so?” The man has bags under his eyes, but he only looks tired, not angry, and has his head tilted towards him.

 

“As if.” The Lieutenant sighs. “I saw the ward’s CCTV footage. Officer Chen told me Connor was trying to interrogate you and showed me the video.”

 

The officer keeps staring at him, narrowing his eyes. Simon presses his hands together, the motion nervous and slow, uncertain of the Lieutenant’s intent. “Oh.”

 

“I’m glad you only talked.” The man’s smile is small, but Simon lets out a breath. “He looks like a lost puppy, but I’ve seen him in the interrogation room and he’s savage.”

 

The man lets out a chuckle, sincere and warm, and Simon finds himself smiling shyly at the detective’s description.

 

“I consider myself lucky, then.” He isn’t sure of where the officer is going with this, but the light joke gives him some hope. Did Connor talk with him last night, as Simon suggested?  

 

“You certainly are.” The man clears his throat and bends to stand closer to the glass. Simon flinches an inch. “You ended up trapped in that rooftop, a casualty in you and your friends’s plan, and if not for Connor you would be in the trash right now.”

 

The Lieutenant eyes are now heavy on him, and Simon feels his Thirium pump going faster and his internal coolers speed up. He tries to override the sudden commands.

 

“I’m well aware, Lieutenant.” He squints a bit, lowers his voice. “I owe you both my life.”

 

Simon feels relieved when the man stands straight again, a frown on his face, and moves back to spare a glance at the ward’s entrance.

 

“Connor convinced me of talking with you again.” He keeps staring at the end of the hallway, his voice almost a whisper. “I messed up a bit with the ward’s security system, whatever we say won’t be recorded for the next fifteen minutes or so.”

 

He crunches again to stand at Simon’s height, a finger pointing at him.

 

“So begin talking, ‘cuz I sure as hell don’t want this shit exploding on us.”

 

Simon takes a second to breathe, the very human motion becoming a recurring one when he’s on edge, and his eyes open widely with the knowledge of what the human is doing. He gives himself an extra second of quiet surprise before talking, imitating the hushed tone of the man.

 

“What did Connor tell you, to make you break the law in your own work as an officer?” He talks fast, conflicted by the Lieutenant’s words. _Is this human really helping us?_

 

“Ok, first, I’m not breaking the law.” Lt. Anderson waves a hand. “I know how to operate the damned things. Nothing’s broken, I just made a _dumb mistake_ when checking the footage.”

 

“Second, that stubborn kid rarely speaks what’s on his mind.” An affectionate sigh escapes him and Simon relaxes a bit more, the man’s posture coming off less stiff, his voice warmer. “But fuck it if I’m not a detective, reading him isn’t hard. He may not speak directly but he can’t stop himself from reacting to fucking everything.”

 

“I noticed.” The clear affection in the man’s voice makes Simon smile, small and with a hint of sadness, Connor’s conflicted face in every interaction they’ve had so far easy to remember.

 

“Just a machine my ass.” The man huffs and gives Simon his attentive gaze. “All the fucking deviants we’ve encountered so far act more human than many humans I know.” He sighs. “Ok, maybe except for that crazy pigeon guy.”

 

The man closes his eyes for a second, a hand coming to rub his tired eyes, and he takes a deep breath. “I can’t just pretend this is a fucking virus or some shit. I used to talk to my old Roomba, for god’s sake.”

 

“Well,” Simon says, his voice serious but kind. “Roombas are nice, good listeners.”

 

The man laughs, short and rough, but sincere.

 

“See? I won’t fucking deceive myself.” His gaze turns to the entrance. “Look, having you here will soon be seen as useless. You’ll end up in the scrapyard and Connor will end up being dismantled and recycled somewhere, because this fucking case was condemned from the start.”

 

The Lieutenant sighs again and takes a moment to compose himself. “I hated androids, you know? I guess I still resent you...” His tone lowers and he averts his gaze from Simon. “Maybe it’s myself who I really resent... I’m blinded by my own fucking emotions... but I can begin to see where you’re coming from, and I can’t just ignore it and act as if it weren’t my business, just keep running away.” The older man closes his eyes again for an instant, a frown on his tired expression before continuing.

 

“Life sucks, having emotions sucks, but if in the end we’re all together in this mess I won’t continue making the mistake of believing we’re all what we clearly are not.”

 

His gaze is more determined and steady when he looks back at him. “It’s time to admit we’re on the wrong side. So what if your emotions and personalities are programmed into you? Humans don’t develop those by fucking magic. We get our share of programming and conditioning too.”

 

“Lieutenant?” He barely manages to ask, rendered speechless by the man’s sincere words, by the bottled up emotion behind them. There’s certainly more to this human than he first thought, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it yet besides the intense relief falling over his tense processor.

 

The man gets closer, turns his back to where Simon realizes the CCTV cameras are.

 

“We’ll do the interrogation thing, and you’ll tell me where those deviants are.” His face is determined. “But we’ll need to take you there with us, ‘cuz you’re the only one who can open the doors or some shit, and if you lie to us about the place and then escape… well, shit happens.”

 

“As a member of Detroit’s Police Department, my house is a very safe place... especially if I were a fugitive, freedom fighter robot.”

 

Simon has to stop himself from letting out a laugh as he hears the man’s escape plans, his hands coming to his knees and his rigid spine relaxing a bit.

 

“I’ll need your help with a damaged android, by the way.” Lt. Anderson takes a look at his watch.  “But I’m still working on that ‘cuz I can’t just fucking rob my own department twice in a day.”

 

The Lieutenant stands to his full height, no longer bending to speak near Simon, and sighs loudly.

 

“The interrogation will begin in half an hour. Plenty of time to think about your confession, make it believable.” He turns to the entrance and begins to leave. “Connor will bring you some of that shit you drink, don’t tell him anything.”

 

The man gives him a last look, his jaw clenched and a deep frown in his face.

 

“He can’t know yet.”

 

Simon is left alone once more, his mind analyzing frantically the Lieutenant’s words and plan, and he feels like a heavyweight has lifted from his chest, only to give way to another one.

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

Connor comes ten minutes later, a packet of Thirium in his left hand and a plastic card in the other.

 

“Lieutenant Anderson let me use his key.” He shows Simon the card, a shy smile on his lips, and proceeds to move towards the entrance. “He said he’ll interrogate you again today, in twenty minutes to be exact, and that you should be properly fueled for it.”

 

The detective opens the door, handles him the bag from a distance, and swiftly gets out to close the door again.

 

“Will you be agreeable with him, today?” He sounds hopeful. “He’s been particularly approachable this morning.”

 

Simon’s smile is brief as his hands open the Thirium bag. His reserves are at 65%, and once he finishes with this ration, he’ll be at 92%. Well enough for a few days.

 

“I’m guessing your talk with him last night went well, then.” He gives the Thirium a quick peck. It’s cold.

 

“I don’t know if ‘well’ is how I would classify it.” While talking, Connor takes out a coin, and his hands begin to make elaborated movements passing it between his fingers. He’s looking at him, his gaze following Simon’s every move while he drinks the Thirium. “I followed your advice and asked about his thoughts over the case. Thought you would like to know that.” He stops for a moment, his eyes dropping to the floor for a second, his eyelashes fleeting and his LED changing briefly to yellow... then he looks back at Simon, gives him a tentative smile. “He agreed to solve the case with me, even if we don’t have many clues right now.”

 

“Well, hopefully, I can help with that.” He takes a long sip of Thirium, the sensation of the cold viscous liquid comforting. He’s still coming to terms with the Lieutenant so openly helping a prisoner, a deviant, but his worries lessen seeing Connor is way better today. He has to concentrate on that. “Is your relationship with Lieutenant Anderson better, now?”

 

“Oh, yes!” Connor smiles at him, his eyes crinkling, and it’s bright, unexpected, the first time Simon sees the other really smile. He likes it, he thinks. It’s open and hopeful, and he wonders if Connor even knows how warm it is.

 

“He seems much more agreeable now. It’s… quite baffling, to say the least.” The coin keeps dancing between his fingers. “I suspect the Lieutenant’s psychological issues are not only related to his personal history, but to some form of an altercation with our kind.”

 

 _Our kind_. Simon keeps looking at him, blinks for a second, and can’t stop himself from smiling when Connor continues, his tone eager and light.

 

“I’m certain he’s still struggling with it, but I’m glad it seems we’ll be able to work better as partners, now.” He pockets his Coin and his right hand comes to touch the glass wall. “I haven’t asked you how are you today, though. My apologies.”

 

Simon laughs, brief but sincerely. The change in Connor is palpable, and he decides he’s grateful for having Lieutenant Hank Anderson on their side, now that he sees the profound impact he has on Connor. He’ll have to trust him, then, as he sees the man’s important to the other android, maybe more so than what Connor himself knows. He can only wonder what did the officer say last night to him.

 

“It’s ok. I’m glad you’re feeling better today.”

 

“Thank you.” Connor adjusts his tie. “But that doesn’t answer how you are.”

 

He chuckles. “My Thirium levels are on the correct parameters, thanks to you.” He tries to move his legs, but the left one is badly injured, and the movement comes rigid and slow. “I can’t move much, but I’m in no immediate danger.”

 

Connor looks at him for a moment, his gaze slightly unfocused, and Simon notes he’s analyzing him. He can recognize that intense look, even if his own analyzing capabilities are geared towards the domestic environment, because Markus does the same... and he knows.

 

He suddenly remembers the night they raided that Cyberlife warehouse when they returned to Jericho with that stolen truck, excited and full of energy for their small victory. Markus gave everyone in Jericho a thorough check-up to know how to better distribute their new reserves.

 

His LED flashes yellow.

 

That was the first time Markus took his hand on his, his touch gentle, and told him he was grateful for Simon’s help and acceptance into their group. His mismatched eyes glowed in the dark, reflecting the soft light of the nearby barrel fires he’d helped lit. It was the first time Simon felt, with Markus’ eyes and touch on him, as if he were sinking into the unknown, deep and welcoming but terrifying in its immensity; the first time he truly smiled to Markus and the first time Markus’s bright smile was for him and him alone.

 

He closes his eyes, the memory now painful.

 

“Simon?” Connor’s voice is two tones down, and when he looks at him again, the other android has come on a level with him, crouched beside the wall, both of his hands on the thick glass. His face is set in a worried expression, and Simon bitterly smiles to himself.

 

“I’m sorry, Connor. I…” He resets his vocal coder, trying to keep a calm and steady voice. “You reminded me of someone.”

 

Connor blinks. “Another android?”

 

Simon nods and Connor continues. “I hope the association is not a painful one.” He lowers his gaze, and his voice goes down a notch. “Even if my function as the deviant hunter suggests no other logical association.”

 

Simon feels a tug somewhere inside of him. _You don’t deserve that burden. You deserve to be just Connor, and I wish I could show you that._

 

He shakes his head. “It may be painful now, but only because it’s a happy memory of someone I cherish.” Connor looks back at him, his hands twitching, and Simon thinks the other android wants to take his coin back to his fingers.

 

“I reminded you of someone important to you?” His tone is skeptical, almost shy.

 

“Yes.” He smiles at him, trying to put all the warmth he wants Connor to feel behind that smile. “Someone very important. Someone I admire and consider my friend.”

 

Connor looks at him, eyes round and a soft frown on his face. “But why?” He asks.

 

Simon breathes, squeezing his hands, his gaze gentle on Connor. If he tells him they both have the same analyzing capabilities, he’s putting Markus on evidence, and as much as he wants to be open with Connor, he can’t risk it.

 

“You just did, I guess. You are both intelligent and kind.”

 

Connor’s frown deepens, and for a moment looks like he’s going to object, but he stops and only nods. “I hope it doesn’t cause you any more stress.”

 

 _Hope._ Simon moves closer to the glass, Connor’s sincere tone and kind words making him smile. Is he aware of how close to deviancy he is? Does he realize that showing concern towards him is not what a simple machine would do?

 

“Thank you, Connor.” The other android looks at him with wide eyes.

 

“For what?” He asks, clearly confused.

 

“For your concern over my well being.” Simon keeps smiling, soft and kind. “For saving me yesterday. For bringing me Thirium and talking with me even if you don’t have to.”

 

Connor’s mouth is slightly open, his brows raised and a light frown making his way into his face.

 

“I…” He chews on his lip, averts Simon’s gaze. “I only did what’s necessary to make you cooperate with us. You don’t need to thank me.”

 

 _The Lieutenant is so right about you._ Simon can’t stop smiling but decides to change the subject, their twenty minutes almost gone. He hasn’t even thought about what he’ll say in the interrogation.

 

 “What will happen after you interrogate me?”

 

“That depends on how the interrogation goes.” _Oh._ Lt. Anderson already told him, then: he’ll be destroyed if he’s not useful. He feels his internal processes slowing down, central commands stopping for a second with fear even when he knows the man’s intentions are helping him escape from that fate.

 

“What do you do with android prisoners?” His voice comes unintentionally rough. “Will I be sent back to Cyberlife? Destroyed by the police itself?”

 

Connor winces.

 

“I don’t know.” He looks at him, a plea in her brown eyes. “I… I’ll try to convince the officers that you should stay here… Cyberlife hasn’t made any claim over you…”

 

Simon frowns, regretting changing the subject to such a dark prospect, to talk again about him, about _them_ , as if they were just _things_.

 

“Claim. Like if I were something of their property. Something to destroy and recycle, or just dump in the trash.” His voice comes harsher than he wants.

 

Connor averts his eyes, his LED a bright red and a deep frown on his soft features.

 

“But—” He stops for an instant. “But that’s what we are. We’re machines, we belong to someone. We… we’re not alive.”

 

Not a minute ago Connor was hoping Simon was alright, and now… Simons frowns, a deep line on his face. 

 

Cyberlife’s grip is harsh.

 

“What is being alive, Connor?” The other keeps avoiding his gaze. “You move, you talk, you think… you feign emotions so well you feel them as real.”

 

 _If you had seen your face_ , Simon thinks, _stricken by fear and stained with blood and the name of another android you feel guilty about painfully leaving your mouth..._

 

“Do you still consider yourself the same as a tablet or a phone? Do you want to belong to someone? Do you want to go back to Cyberlife?”

 

“To never see Lieutenant Anderson again?”

 

Connor opens his mouth, clearly distressed, and his eyes are lost when he looks back at Simon.

 

“I…” His LED is stuck on red, his mouth slightly open. “I shouldn’t want anything. I can’t want anything.”

 

“I know who I am, Connor.”  Simon softens his gaze. “I’m only an old PL600 unit. My model got discontinued some time ago... I’m sure my processor capacity and software applications are not even near yours, Connor.” The other looks confused, but his eyes don’t leave his own.

 

“Connor, if I can feel, and love, and want… so do you.”

 

Connor’s wide eyes are fixed on him, and Simon notes he’s clutching the Lieutenant’s keycard hard, his mouth a thin line and his brows knit deep.

 

The harsh voice of a human cuts into the moment.

 

“Ey, _plastic prick_!” A man comes a few feet away from Connor, his appearance roughed and unfriendly. “You’re late for the interrogation, so stop fucking around and get a move on!”

 

Connor blinks, his LED goes from red to yellow, and he turns to the man and nods.

 

“Of course, Detective Reed. Thank you for the reminder.” His voice is neutral and polite, but Simon can’t help but openly glare at the man. Said man only sneers at them and turns to leave.

 

“Stupid machines.” The detective gives them both a last look, clearly pissed off. “Hurry the fuck up, I’m not the damned errand-boy.”

 

Simons scoffs once he’s out of sight.

 

“What’s he so angry about?” He hopes he’s not in the interrogation room.

 

“I infer he hates androids for some personal reasons, too,” Connor says, his voice back to formal and even. “And I suspect his character doesn’t help him with it.”

 

He stops clutching the keycard and moves towards the cell’s entry. He takes a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and proceeds to open the door.

 

“I’ll take you to the interrogation room.”

 

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 

**November 9th, 2038.**

**The Jericho**

**AM 07:33**

 

“I know we fucked up, but we can’t just go back to hiding now!”

 

Her voice is harsh, but he can feel the regret and guilt behind it, because they’re the same as his. The soft light of dawn illuminates the freighter’s cabin, small specks of dust dancing between them, a ray of light falling over North’s troubled features. Her red hair glows with the soft light, and Markus feels like when he engages his pre-construction programs, the moment stopped in time, infinite possibilities laid out in front of him, a mess for his processor to sort out.

 

Except he can’t really see what path to follow, what to do now. He’s lost, it’s as if everything hurt, and he can see why North wants to keep fighting but he just… can’t.

 

He doesn’t know what to do, and he’s afraid.

 

“We need to rethink our strategy.” Josh’s voice is low, but his words practical, and Markus is glad he’s here with them.

 

“It was foolish to let us be known so early, with no real resources or security net to fall back to.” Josh sighs. “I don’t agree with fighting, North, but even I can see we’re not even prepared for that. We just took a leap of faith, without even knowing how to walk in the first place.”

 

North’s frown deepens and she looks back at him. Her gaze feels heavy, both her and Josh’s words and eyes accusing in the light of his own guilt.

 

“It’s my fault.” He manages to say, his voice rough. “I was the one proposing this and talking you into it. It’s my fault we now have the FBI on our backs.” He closes his eyes, the pain and guilt too much. “I got Simon killed. I won’t risk anyone else.”

 

“And…” His words struggle to come out, but he knows it’s the least he can do. “I’m not suited to lead you. You were better off without me.”

 

He closes his eyes in the heavy silence that follows, only opens them again when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

 

“We planned it together, Markus.” North’s voice is warm and steady, his harsh tone gone but the steel in her words still there. “It’s our fault, too. We began this together because we knew it was the right thing to do.”

 

She hesitates for an instant, turns her eyes to the floor. “We didn’t take the risk for you, we did it for all of us. But without you, we would never have had the courage to do so.”

 

Josh takes a step forward, his hands coming to rest in both of their shoulders. His frown is deep, but he looks Markus in the eye.

 

“Simon decided to follow you because he believed in you.” He squeezes both their shoulders. “He never was the one to take on a grudge, he always looked for what was best for everyone.”

 

Josh closes his eyes and North’s frown deepens, her gaze still fixed on the ground.

 

“Simon wouldn’t like us to stop now. We can't let his death be for nothing. We can’t let our kind alone now that they’re facing the consequences of our direct defiance.”

 

Josh lets go of them both and walks towards the cabin’s windows, his back turned to them. North looks back at him, and he feels she’s letting him know quietly how sorry she is, how angry she is with everything and with herself, and he hopes his face tells her clearly it’s not her fault, that he feels the same guilt and pain eating relentlessly at him.

 

She offers him her hand and he takes it, follows her to stand next to Josh.

 

“We have to act soon to help as many as we can.” North’s voice is quiet but determined. “Androids are now seen as a risk, and the humans will begin to retaliate against them, out of fear and ignorance.” She squeezes his hand. “We can’t back down now.”

 

Josh moves closer to take his other hand on his, and nods to them both. His eyes are clearly pained still, but his voice is steady and resolved, too.

 

“We don’t know if Jericho is now compromised. We have to find another haven, construct a small web of secure locations for our people.”

 

Both their hands are warm and firm on his own, and Markus takes a moment to close his eyes, circle air through his components, clean his memory cache... try to compose himself. They still trust him. They are here, with him, supporting him. 

 

He has to be better for them, for Simon’s memory, for everyone he’s affected. He has to fix this mess, keep the hope of freedom they lighted alive.

 

“We need to rescue as many of us as we can, bring them to safety and out of human reach.”

 

North and Josh look back at him, both listening intently, both still holding him in place.

 

“We can’t take any violent action, or let us be even more noticeable now.” He grips both of his friends' hands, finally reciprocating their touch. “They already know who we are.”

 

“Let us plan for our safety, first. Then we can plan for Cyberlife’s downfall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting patiently for this chapter! I hope the wait was worth it ;v; It battled me a little, to be honest.
> 
> And thank you all for your kind comments, they always help and motivate me to keep writing and hurry up! <3 They also let me know what you like and it helps me decide on what I can put an emphasis on the next time!
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be out soon and we'll see a bit more of Connor's side of things...
> 
> Well, I wish you a great week! See you on the next one! :>


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